


It's Affection

by FunnyWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angry Dean, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean is kind of a fuck up but he's doing his best, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, M/M, russian!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 08:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyWings/pseuds/FunnyWings
Summary: After getting catfished by a federal agent, Dean is angry at the world and the world is angry right back at him. When one of Sam's friends from Oxford comes to stay at Mary's house, he's determined to be as unpleasant as possible to the newcomer. However, being pissed at the world can only get you so far, and Dean finds in Castiel someone he can confide in truths he rarely likes to admit to himself.Excerpt:“Hello.”The Russian is different than Dean was expecting. He’s shorter, less imposing. Less intruding. Quiet and still, like he could wait in a line forever without even a hint of impatience. It threw Dean long enough for a small frown to form on the Russian’s face.“I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong house,” he says apologetically. He doesn’t sound Russian. He sounds almost British instead, but in a cultivated way. He speaks a little too slowly to be natural, and each word is chosen with an inordinate amount of care. Dean even thinks he might hear a slip in the pronunciation, but he might be imagining it. “I’m looking for Mary Winchester?”“She’s dead,” Dean says, because it’s the first lie that comes to his head.





	It's Affection

Dean’s hands curl into fists as he feels the faceless man behind him leave a hickey on his neck. The only thought running through his head is that Bobby isn’t going to believe whatever excuse he comes up with tomorrow for why he missed work. Not when he sees a suspicious bruise on Dean’s neck, and fuck if he wasn’t so drunk right now he’d tell the dude to quit it. In the moment though, it feels good. Kind of grounding.

“C’mon,” Dean mutters, urging on his partner for the big finish as he rests his forehead against the bathroom tile. And then again. “C’mon!”

It’s always awkward when the fireworks are over. Usually Dean’s better about getting out quick, evading notice. But today he’s bone tired so he just turns around and slumps against the wall, pulling out a cigarette as an excuse to keep busy until what’s-his-face leaves.

“Can I have your number?” he asks.

“Fuck off,” Dean growls at him. That does the trick, if not quite quickly enough for Dean’s liking. He takes a deep breath in, and then out again. Yeah, Bobby’s not going to believe him tomorrow morning, no matter how good the story he cooks up is.

Dean leaves the bathroom after another fifteen minutes and orders another round.

**********

With the angle the sun’s hitting Dean’s bed at and the intensity of the migraine he currently has, Dean’s pretty sure it’s not noon. He squints his eyes open, blindly reaching for an extra pillow to block out the light. Just as he’s grabbed it, someone else pries the damn thing from his grasp. He groans and rolls over to see his mom staring down at him. Her lips are downturned in quiet disappointment, and Dean wants to scream.

Instead he leans over the bed and throws up. Mary’s nose crinkles in mild disgust, and she sits down on the bed next to him until he’s done. Dean doesn’t look at her.

“Bobby’s expecting you.”

“I’m sick.”

“Are you?” Mary asks. Dean flinches at the hard edge in her voice. It’s brittle, but there’s something deeper behind it. Like she’s actually asking if he’s okay. He wants to reassure her, but he’s too nauseous to put the words together. The moment between them hangs. “You’re going today, or you’re not coming home tonight.”

“Mom,” Dean says, finally turning to look at her. But her arms are crossed and her eyes are steely. She’s not budging. “I’ve got the flu or something-“

“Lie to me again, and you’re not walking through the front door for a week at least,” she says. Dean’s mouth snaps shut. “That’s what I thought.”

She leaves the room then, and Dean rolls out of bed onto the floor. The smell of his own vomit makes him want to puke again, but he shakes it off and staggers into the shower. Once he’s washed the smell of booze and axe body spray (not his) off his skin, he shuts off the water and stumbles out of the tub, nearly tripping on the lip. As he catches himself on the sink, he looks up to see his face reflected back in the mirror.

He’d gotten good at avoiding that. He leaves the bathroom without drying off, and shoves on the nearest set of mostly clean clothes he can find. Once he’s dug out his stash of aspirin to take the edge off his mother of all migraines, Dean snatches up his car keys. Might as well face the shit storm now if he has to face it.

**********

“You’re three hours late.”

“Hello to you too, Bobby,” says Dean. He tries to walk past his almost stepdad without saying another word. Bobby doesn’t take too kindly to that idea.

“Just what fool thing were you going to tell me when you crawled in at two in the afternoon?” Bobby asks. Honestly, Dean prefers this to Mary’s lectures. At least Bobby still sounds angry at him. It’s a relief that Bobby still has expectations that Dean is failing to meet.

“I got sick.”

“Boy, you’ve been sick,” says Bobby. “And truth is you’ve been useless around here.”

Dean doesn’t say anything. Bobby stares him down. In retrospect, Dean will realize this is Bobby giving him a chance to defend himself. But as they say hindsight is twenty twenty, and what Bobby says next hits Dean like a brick to the face.

“I’m suspending you. Two weeks,” Bobby says. Dean’s mouth falls open in shock.

“You can’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t split hairs about what I can and can’t do, boy,” says Bobby. “You want to work? Show up. And don’t give me that look, we both know your mama’s paying the rent. Has been since Lydia-“

“Don’t,” says Dean. “I’ll show up. You’re already looking for help, you can’t afford to be down a mechanic.”

“No I can’t,” says Bobby. It takes Dean a second to catch the significance.

“Who’d you hire?” Dean asks. Bobby snorts. “No I’m serious, who’s fucking replacing me?”

“Nobody said anything about replacing,” says Bobby. “Sam met some Russian kid at Oxford. Man says he can’t go home, and asked for work in the states so he could get his hands on a visa. I called him, and turns out he knows a thing or two.”

“You going to give him the business, too?” Dean asks. Bobby just stares at him. “Don’t think you’ve got me fooled for a second, old man. You were too scared to have kids when you still could, and I’m the closest thing you ever got. But you know what fuck it. You aren’t my fucking father and it’s about time you stopped acting like it.”

If Bobby wants to say something, he doesn’t show it on his face. Dean’s practically yelling at him by this point, and Garth and Smash are peeking around the corner from the workshop to try and listen into the fight. Smash tries to aim a sympathetic smile in his direction. Dean acknowledges them with a nod, and a flick of his wrist to send them away. Bobby doesn’t turn around to see if they go.

“You should get home, boy,” Bobby says at last.

“I fucking hate you.”

Dean goes home.

**********

It’s another two days before Dean finds out the Russian is going to be staying in Sam’s old room. Mary tells Dean to make it up for his arrival, but Dean doesn’t bother. If this fuckwad doesn’t like Sam’s cartoon alien bedsheets, then he can change them himself. In fact Dean’s already decided he’s going to be as unpleasant as possible for the length of the Russian’s stay. Not like that’ll be hard. Dean’s made being unpleasant a finely honed talent as of late.

As he’s helping his mom prepare dinner and waiting for the Russian to arrive, all Dean can think to himself is how fucking angry he is. It builds like a loop inside him, until he’s slamming dishes down on counters and making a mess. Mary banishes him from the kitchen without so much as a warning. Dean supposes he deserves it, but it does nothing to stop the loop in his head.

Ten minutes later the doorbell rings. Dean gets there first.

“Hello.”

The Russian is different than Dean was expecting. He’s shorter, less imposing. Less intruding. Quiet and still, like he could wait in a line forever without even a hint of impatience. It threw Dean long enough for a small frown to form on the Russian’s face.

“I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong house,” he says apologetically. He doesn’t sound Russian. He sounds almost British instead, but in a cultivated way. He speaks a little too slowly to be natural, and each word is chosen with an inordinate amount of care. Dean even thinks he might hear a slip in the pronunciation, but he might be imagining it. “I’m looking for Mary Winchester?”

“She’s dead,” Dean says, because it’s the first lie that comes to his head. Then he slams the door in the Russian’s face. It won’t get rid of him for long, but Dean feels better. Or at least he does until he turns around to see his mother glaring at him.

“Move,” she says. He does, and she opens the door to find the Russian standing there. His expression has barely changed, but Dean thinks maybe his eyes have widened a little. “Excuse my son, he thinks he’s funny. Castiel, it’s so good to meet you.”

“And you as well,” the man answers quietly. He looks over Mary’s shoulder at Dean. “A practical joke?”

Dean shrugs. The Russian narrows his eyes at him.

“Sam has told me more than one story of your practical jokes,” he says. “If I understand correctly I’m meant to retaliate?”

He says it like a question, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize it’s both a threat and a promise. Castiel isn’t going to be bullied. Not by Dean at least. And honestly, Dean’s glad to hear. He may be something of an ass, but he won’t poke at someone that doesn’t fight back. That’s just common courtesy.

“Dean,” Mary says, and her voice sounds strained. Abruptly Dean feels something a little like shame. Jesus what happened to him? He used to be… he used to be better than this, he knows he did. “Can you show Castiel to his room?”

“Yeah.”

Dean even takes Castiel’s bag for him. he catches his mother smiling for a second, and that makes it worth it. Even if lugging the stupid thing up his narrow staircase feels like he’s working out a bit of bad karma in a starring role as Sisyphus on a grassy hill.

“What the fuck is even in here?” Dean grits out as he finally sets the bag down on the shag carpeting in Sam’s room. It doesn’t thud down loudly enough for his liking.

“Books,” Castiel says. He steps forward and sits on the bed. “This is Sam’s room.”

“What gave it away?” Dean asks sarcastically.

“The bedsheets,” Castiel answers. He almost smiles down at the little green aliens. Dean isn’t sure if Cas didn’t pick up on his sarcasm, or if he’s ignoring it on purpose. Either way, Dean can feel annoyance starting to prickle under his skin again.

“Why, you Sam’s boyfriend or something?” Dean says. It comes out meaner than he expected it to, and Cas stiffens slightly. It occurs to Dean that Cas could actually be Sam’s boyfriend for all he knew. Dean hadn’t talked to Sam in months. And it was about college when Charlie (Dean’s ex-girlfriend of three days) realized that she really, really did not like men that way. “I mean-“

“No,” says Cas. “Though Eileen will think it’s funny you thought so.”

“Who’s Eileen?”

“Sam’s girlfriend,” says Cas. Everything he says is in a weird monotone. Not emotionless exactly, just flat. A little robotic. “And I was seeing someone. It didn’t end well.”

“Why not?”

“They didn’t want to marry me.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“How old are you, twenty two?” he asks. “Sounds a little early to be thinking about marriage.”

“Twenty five. And I was only allowed to stay in England until I finished my education,” says Cas. “Student visa.”

“And that was a problem because…?”

“Because I wasn’t very quiet about my boyfriend,” Cas says. And now he’s looking at Dean, and there’s a challenge in his eyes. “Something I thought you had less of a problem with in this country.”

It’s pointed. Dean wonders if he can say anything that will convince Cas he’s not a homophobe. “I fuck men, too” probably won’t cut it. If anything, it’ll sound like a come on. And besides, the thought of actually telling someone he isn’t straight is enough to nearly make him break out in hives. The world’s so much simpler when he finds men cruising at bars, and they take a look at him and just know.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, because he has nothing to say. “Get settled in. Mom made pasta for dinner. She can’t cook, so eat literally anything else.”

When Cas finally comes down for dinner, he only takes the pasta. And he chokes down every bite, too.

**********

Dean manages to talk his way down to a four day suspension, and ends up being allowed back into the shop on Cas’ second day of work. It doesn’t surprise Dean that Jesse has taken Cas under his wing, and is quick to answer every soft spoken question Cas has. The rest of the crew is more hesitant around the Russian. Not hostile, just curious and uncertain. Cas doesn’t really react to their treatment of him. He listens to Jesse, nods once, and then gets back to whatever he’s doing.

After a day of watching him, Dean has to admit that Cas is a good mechanic. He treats the cars well, and seems to have a real appreciation for them. It almost makes Dean like him for a second. Almost, that is, until Dean is on a lunch break and Cas walks into the break room. Out of the fridge he grabs a brown paper bag with a sandwich inside. Dean knows it’s peanut butter and jelly, because he saw Cas make it that morning.

Dean looks down at the ancient bag of chips he’d stolen from Bobby’s cabinet. He’d had a fight with his mom, and he hadn’t actually managed to grab any food before slamming his way out of the door and loudly honking the horn until Cas followed him out and sullenly took his place in the passenger side seat. The neighbors had not appreciated it, and Dean wouldn’t be surprised if his mom was getting an earful from them at that very moment.

“Hey,” Dean says. Castiel looks up, but he doesn’t answer Dean. His eyes are narrowed in quiet suspicion, and Dean can feel himself tensing under the scrutiny. “Can I have some of that?”

Cas looks down at his sandwich and then back at Dean.

“No,” he says. Then he takes another bite. Dean is pretty sure he wants to kill him.

“You’re fucking kidding me right?”

“It’s my sandwich.”

“What they don’t teach you how share and care in the Soviet Union?” asks Dean. Cas ignores him. “Because that’s like kindergarten level stuff here.”

“I can make a second sandwich for you tomorrow,” says Cas. “If you ask nicely.”

Dean stands up from where he’s been sitting and stalks over to Cas. He must be more successful at looking scary than he thought because Cas sits up completely straight, and something about his eyes tells Dean he’s mildly alarmed. Not afraid, but prepared. Which Jesus, it’s not like Dean’s going to hit him.

“Get fucked on a pogo stick,” says Dean. Cas relaxes minutely at the insult, and the alarm in his eyes shifts irritation.

“Maybe you shouldn’t fight so much with your mother,” he says. He’s trying to poke at a nerve, but it’s the wrong one if he wants much of a reaction. Dean just snorts and retreats back to his sad bag of chips. After a little while Cas finishes his sandwich and leaves. Smash comes in after another five minutes, and Dean ends up mooching some red bull and fruit snacks off of her, so that’s alright.

**********

Mary and Bobby have date night, leaving Dean alone for the evening with Cas. For most of the night, Dean keeps to himself and out of Castiel’s way. It isn’t until about ten that he hears Cas’ voice and gets curious. He tiptoes out of his room, avoiding all the parts of the floor that creak. He used to do this when Sam was still dumb enough to say his journal entries out loud as he was writing them. He knows just the perfect spot to stand in order to eavesdrop.

Then again, eavesdropping is easier when the conversation you’re overhearing is in a language you actually speak. Two things keep Dean from abandoning ship. The first is that Cas sounds angry, like really properly angry. As annoying as Dean has tried to be to him, he’d never managed to get more than a mild reaction out of him. The second is that every once in a while, Cas will say either Dean or Sam’s name. Occasionally he mentions Eileen, who according to Facebook Sam has been officially dating for two months. After a few minutes of trying to decipher what’s going on, Dean decides there’s not much more he can gain from listening in and starts to creep back to his own room.

Cas flings the door open, now yelling at the person on the phone. He stops shouting mid sentence when he sees Dean standing frozen right in front of him. Cas mutters a few words hastily into the phone before hanging up on a woman who is still shouting into the line.

“That, uh,” Dean says intelligently. “Sounded personal.”

“Can I help you?” Cas asks.

“Yeah,” says Dean. He fumbles around his head for a believable reason he’d seek out Cas’ company. If Cas doesn’t already suspect he’d been trying to listen in, Dean doesn’t want him to come to that conclusion. He’d just tell Mary, and then Dean and Mary would get into another shouting match about it. “I want to go out. Need someone to drive me back.”

“You don’t work tomorrow?” Cas asks him hesitantly. Dean can tell he’s trying to find a way to politely turn Dean down.

“Nope,” Dean says popping the p. He doesn’t actually feel like going out, but he does enjoy how uncomfortably conflicted Cas looks about the whole thing. “Actually you know what? I should be good to drive back. I’ll only have a few drinks so-”

“I’ll drive,” Cas says immediately. He spares a regretful glance for his bed and then squares his shoulders and marches for the car.

**********

Dean has never been kicked out of a bar before. And it’s Cas’ fault too, that fucker.

Everything Dean knew about Russians had led him to believe they could hold their fucking liquor, but somehow Cas had gotten white girl wasted on two beers. Hell, Garth could drink this guy under the table.

And yet despite everything Dean is laughing. It’s been so long since the last time he really laughed that it almost doesn’t feel natural. Like he’s in someone else’s body, and they’re laughing for him. And Cas is smiling at him the way people do when they don’t get the joke, and they’re really hoping you don’t notice, and that just makes Dean laugh all the harder.

“What did you even say to her?”

“I…” Cas says, his eyes lit up a little. “I just told her that her friends had gone to the bathroom together. She was looking for them.”

Dean’s pretty sure Cas is going to have a hand print shaped bruise across his cheek from that poor girl slapping the bejeezus out of him. Talk about shooting the messenger. Not that there’s an easy guide for how to react when you find out your boyfriend and best friend are cheating on you, together. And then she’d started yelling at him and Dean had stepped between them to intervene, only just dodging a second slap from the girl in question. And that was when security had gotten involved. And now Dean is banned for life from his favorite bar, and all he can do is clutch at Cas’ arm drunkenly and laugh about it.

They crawl back into the car and sprawl across the back seat. Cas speaks even slower than usual now, doing his utmost to find all the right words in answer to whatever dumb question Dean is asking him. Time almost seems to crawl to a halt between each word, and Dean considers every answer before asking another question. Very, very slowly a new picture of Cas begins to form in his head.

“So you… You went to college in a brand new country for a guy?” Dean asks incredulously. Cas nods seriously.

“I met him online,” says Cas. “And I fell in love.”

“So you leave everything behind, and the asshole won’t even marry you seven years later?”

“He’s not an asshole,” Cas says. “He’s… flighty. And he doesn’t understand… I kept things from him. My deteriorating relationship with my family. Money issues. I didn’t want him to know I was living off of ramen and my postgrad salary. I thought he would think less of me.”

“So you’re a liar, and he only cares about money,” Dean summarizes. Cas elbows him and Dean starts cackling again. “Oh, c’mon, dude. I kinda nailed it.”

“Maybe you’re the ass,” says Cas. “And money is nice to have. It let’s you buy nice cars. Much better than borrowing.”

“Borrowing?” Dean asks. Cas’ lips twitch in amusement.

“I always brought them back,” he says. “I was very reckless when I was younger. Not so much now.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” says Cas. “One day I woke up and I realized I was afraid my mother would kill me. Not metaphorically. I used to picture it sometimes, how I would be sleeping in my bed and she would walk in with a kitchen knife and slit my throat. Or that she would reveal me for who I was, and let me be beaten to death by the men who had helped raise me. Who had raised my friends. And so I learned to be quieter for a while. Obedient but calculating.”

Cas pauses. Dean light himself a cigarette and offers a second to Cas. He takes it, but doesn’t light it. Instead he fidgets with the thing in his hands.

“But with him I was reckless again,” says Cas. “And now I can’t go back to being quiet.”

Dean stops Cas’ hands from fidgeting and lights the cigarette for him. He guides Cas’ hands to Cas’ lips and waits until Cas takes a deep inhale to let go. to his surprise, Cas catches one of Dean’s hands before it can fall. His long fingers circle around Dean’s wrist in a way that feels restraining enough that Dean’s first impulse is to yank his hand away. Cas lets go, but Dean knows he knows.

“So what?” Dean says while Cas is looking at him. “I’m queer. Doesn't mean I like you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you better fucking be sorry,” says Dean loudly. “Is that why you agreed to come out with me? Let me get a few drinks and see what you could get away with?”

Cas recoils at the accusation. Dean isn’t sure whether or not he means it, he just knows there’s a pit of something dark and ugly that has been building inside him so long. He guesses Cas is just the lucky guy who gets to hear it all. He’s not even sure what he’s saying after a while, he just knows that Cas’ expression grows more and more thunderous and by the time he’s done, Cas has gotten out of the car and slammed the door behind him as hard as he could. Dean sits dumbfounded for a while before getting out himself.

He’s pretty sure he’s just called Cas a lot of shitty names.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that,” Dean manages. It’s not an apology, and he knows it, but Cas deigns to look at him at least. “I could suck your dick. If it would make you feel better.”

“Please don’t,” Cas mutters. “If only because it was on your very long list of things about me that you suspect are unappealing. It came right after your much longer list of things about me that you have definite proof are unappealing.”

“I only said it was probably small,” Dean corrects. Cas rolls his eyes. “And I didn’t mean it. You’re not so bad.”

“Right,” says Cas. And because no one knows when to leave a thing alone. “It didn’t always sound like you were talking about me, Dean.”

“I probably wasn’t,” says Dean. Cas takes the hint and doesn’t press further. Dean sits down next him. “My mom, she used to sing me to sleep when I was sick. For years she did it, until I told her to stop. I thought I was getting too old. I kinda wish I hadn’t now. You ever have something like that with your mom, or was she always…”

Cas shrugs.

“She hates me,” he says simply. “And she loves me. And both of those things too much.”

**********

Dean doesn’t usually bother to answer his phone. The only person who calls him that he likes talking to is Sam, and they still aren’t speaking. Dean has debated over and over again being the one to pick up the phone and end their fight, but he never does. In general, this means he tends to assume it’s a telemarketer or some other nonsense on the other end of the line, and figures they’ll leave a voicemail if its important.

So when his phone rings, it’s already weird that he checks the caller ID. He usually wouldn’t, but he’s been spending the afternoon watching telenovelas with Bobby and his mom, and he’s actually been in good spirits lately. In fact, everyone has gone out of their way to point out that he’s been in a better mood. Sarcasm is usually involved.

Who knew one phone call would be all it would take to shatter Dean’s peace of mind?

The name on his phone flashes up “Lydia”, and before Dean can let the logic side of his brain take over he’s picked up the phone.

“What do you want?” he asks. He wonders if Lydia or Victor are going to answer. He’s not sure which of them he’s more angry at.

“Listen, Dean,” says Victor. “I know you’re still angry, but we need to know where-“

“I don’t know where my dad is, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you,” Dean hisses into the phone. Mary and Bobby are looking at him now. They know who’s on the other line. Or at least they think they know.

“Let me talk to her, Dean,” says Bobby, and he’s got his overprotective scowl on again. “Make sure she stops calling for good this time.”

“I got it,” says Dean, pushing away Mary’s comforting hand on his shoulder. He walks into the backyard and shuts the door behind him. His heart is beating so fast, he’s half certain he’s about to have a heart attack. “You’re lucky Lydia wasn’t the one who called, or I would have let Bobby tear her a new one.”

“You can’t be happy knowing he’s out there.”

“I also know that cat fishing is illegal and I could sue both you and Lydia to fucking timbuktu,” says Dean. “Call me again, and see if I don’t.”

Dean hangs up as angrily as he could manage on an iPhone, and immediately wishes for the more visceral satisfaction of slamming his flip phone shut. That’s when he realizes that Cas is watching him from where he’d been sitting on the porch.

“Don’t,” Dean says before Cas can open his mouth.

“What’s cat fishing?” Cas asks, because letting Dean tell him what to do is as anathema to him as oil is to water.

“What do I look like, google?” Dean asks. Cas takes out his own phone, and God he’s actually looking it up. Fuck Dean’s life. Once he’s finished, he frowns at Dean in mild concern. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Shouldn’t you be taking legal action.”

“Taking legal action against the FBI is expensive and annoying,” says Dean. “And if they had probable cause to think I’m keeping them from finding my dad, well… Not necessarily a case I’m going to win. Besides it’d bad news for me, if it all got out.”

“Why would it be bad for you?” asks Cas.

“Because Victor did most of the work,” says Dean. “Lydia’s picture was the bait, but he’s the one who was fucking with me. And he’s a guy.”

“But you like men.”

“Yeah and guess how I figured that out?” Dean asks. “I knew after a while that I was probably talking to a guy. If you get comfortable enough with a girl, they start telling you things, like… like they’re on their period, or their bra sucks, or they bought a new lipstick that’s bright blue for the hell of it. Victor was too busy trying to figure me out to do any of that shit. I didn’t know for sure either way, but I didn’t stop messaging him. In the abstract like that, it seemed… fine. Being with a guy. And then it started seeming less abstract, but I was still okay with it.”

“So you confronted him,” says Cas. “But he admitted everything, not just that he was a man.”

“Yeah, what a kick in the balls,” says Dean. “Aren’t you going to ask what my dad did?”

“What did he do?”

“He liked setting fires,” says Dean. “Couldn’t help it. There was something fucked up in his head. Almost burned our own house down a couple of times. I was still angry when he left us, even though I knew he did because he didn’t want to hurt us or Mom.”

Cas is silent for a moment.

“He loved you,” he says, but he says it almost like a question.

“Yeah, and I think he hated us too. Haven’t heard from him since I was sixteen. He turned up out of the blue to say he was proud of me for taking care of Sam and Mom, and then he disappeared. Someone’s still out there setting fires though,” Victor starts calling him again and Dean hangs up. Cas takes the phone from him and puts the ringer on silent. Dean pretends he’s not grateful. “You know this stays between us, right?”

“I know,” says Cas. He glances at Dean and then very casually puts his hand down on the table facing up. Dean takes it. “And about the other thing… Bobby and Mary, would they mind? That you like men?”

Dean shrugs. He doesn’t want to know.

**********

They don’t kiss the first time it happens. Mary and Bobby are gone for date night, and Dean looks over to see that Cas missed a spot of grease from the shop when he took a shower earlier. He thinks about saying something, but he doesn’t, just keeps staring at it every once in a while. Cas is absorbed by the penguin documentary they’re watching.

He practically gasps out loud when one of the eggs rolls onto the snow. It cuts to commercial break right after and Cas turns to look at Dean, his brow creased with worry. Somehow, all of this put together is so strangely and specifically attractive to Dean, that before Cas can chatter on and on about whether or not the baby penguin is okay, Dean is dragging Cas down underneath him.

Cas stares up at him the whole time, his nails digging into Dean’s back, pulling him closer. It feels real in a way nothing has in a long time, but they don’t kiss. And they don’t talk about it.

**********

Cas gets invited to Mary and Bobby’s wedding. He’s been working for Bobby four months now, and he fits in well with the rest of the crew. Especially Dean. Sure, Dean still takes crack shots at Cas’… everything. The way he dresses, the way he acts, the fact that he looks up to Jesse like a duckling. Dean’s not really sure where the line is between friendly teasing and flirty teasing, and he’s hoping no one else does either.

Smash stops letting him drink her red bull though. So maybe she’s noticed something. She’s not mean about it, at least. In fact she actually talks to him more now. Dean wonders how he hadn’t noticed before that she used to have a crush on him.

He asks her about it one day. She doesn’t deny it.

“If it creeps you out less,” she says. “I’m not into you anymore.”

“It doesn’t creep me out,” Dean says defensively. Maybe too defensively. She smirks at him. “Shut up, Smash.”

“I was wondering,” she says. “If you had plans for pride this year.”

Dean stops breathing as she stares him down.

“Because if not,” she says. “My girlfriend and I are driving down to the city for the parade. You could bring Cas.”

“It’s not like that.”

But it is like that. Or at least Dean thinks it might be. He and Cas have got something, at least.

“I’m not saying anything is like anything,” says Smash. “I’m saying that Cas might like going to pride. Jesse already talked to him about it, and he said he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to go. I just figured since you’re his best friend, well…”

“I think we both know what you figured,” says Dean. And then. “Since when is Jesse gay?”

“Since always,” says Smash. “You’ve met Cesar. Three times.”

“Oh,” says Dean, remembering the burly guy who sometimes stops by to pick up Jesse and had attended Bobby and Mary’s engagement party. “Gotcha. I guess it didn’t occur to me… Oh.”

“Don’t sweat it,” says Smash. “Just think about the invitation.”

**********

Sam gets in three days before the wedding. Cas insists on giving Sam his room back, saying he’ll sleep on the couch instead. It only takes a few hours of Dean bitching at him to agree to set up in air mattress in Dean’s room.

Cas doesn’t actually sleep on the air mattress Dean spent two hours setting up, but no one needs to know that.

It’s awkward being around Sam. They still aren’t officially talking, and Cas has become something of an intermediary between the two of them. During the day, Cas will spend long hours in conversation with Sam about the intricacies of quantum mechanics and all the while slip in hints that he should talk to Dean. At night, he’s much less subtle. He’ll have whisper fights with Dean that last well into the early hours of the morning about the fact that he and Sam are still ignoring each other.

If Cas is busy loosening the jar, Mary’s the one who finally blows the lid off.

“If the both of you don’t say three sentences to each other, I’m calling off the wedding,” she says. Every man at the table but Bobby stares at her.

“You can’t do that,” says Sam.

“Your mother can do what she likes,” says Bobby. “We’ll still be in love. Not like getting married proves anything. Still going on our honeymoon. We can use the money we get back from the ceremony to send the two of you to counseling. And Cas too.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” says Cas. He’s pouting a little as he says it, and Dean can’t help but smile at how cute it is. Cas seems to know what he’s smiling about and gently kicks at Dean under the table.

“Stop playing footsie with Cas,” says Sam sullenly. Dean drops his fork. Sam mutters something under his breath and then audibly says: “One sentence. Your turn.”

“Mind your own fucking business,” says Dean.

“Okay I will,” says Sam. He turns to look at Mary. “Happy?”

Her lips are pressed together so hard, Dean thinks they might disappear.

“So what if I was?” Dean says, startling Sam’s attention back to him. “Messing around with Cas?”

“Uh,” says Sam, his trademark intelligence seemingly absent for once.

“You have a girlfriend you never told me about anyway,” says Dean. “What do you care what I do?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” asks Sam. “If you wanted to know about Eileen you could have asked.”

“Yeah, well you could have been fucking sympathetic about what happened with Vic- with Lydia,” Dean says, only just saving himself. And then it occurs to him, why the fuck not come out with it all? “With Victor.”

“Who’s Victor?” Bobby asks first.

“Lydia,” says Dean. “I mean… he used her picture. He’s her partner. They’re the ones that are trying to hunt down Dad.”

“You don’t have to do this now, Dean,” says Cas gently. Dean ignores him.

“So when I told you,” Dean says to Sam, who now looks lost somewhere between utterly confused and mildly angry. “That I wasn’t sure Lydia was who she said she was, I meant I wasn’t sure if she was actually a girl. I was trying to tell you, that I was pretty sure I didn’t care. I was trying to tell you…”

There’s something like dawning comprehension on Sam’s face.

“When people lie to you, it’s usually a red flag. You told me she, uh, he was lying to you,” says Sam. “I wanted to make sure nothing shitty happened. I didn’t want you to get kidnapped, I wasn’t listening for some kind of secret coming out message. You’re like the straightest person I know, how was I supposed to guess-“

“You didn’t have to say that you told me so when I admitted I got played,” Dean shouts at him. “You didn’t have to condescend down your freakishly big fucking nose at me. Like I was an idiot. You could’ve heard me out. Any one of you could have heard me out.”

And now Bobby and Mary are looking just as alarmed as Sam is. Dean’s hurting them, he knows he is. So he shuts his mouth, and stands up and leaves. He’s halfway to the door before Cas rushes after him.

“Dean,” Cas says.

“Fuck off.”

So Cas does. Dean wakes up the next morning in some forty year old man’s bed. There’s a picture of his wife on the nightstand. Dean tries to ignore the sudden slam of unexpected guilt and checks his phone as a distraction. There’s only one message on it. It’s from Sam.

“Cas is leaving.”

**********

Dean doesn’t know how Cas knows. Maybe he followed Dean out to make sure Dean got home alright, and that’s when he saw- Dean doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about anything. His bed still smells like Cas, and he tries not to think about the fact that Cas is staying across town at a motel. He promised Mary he’d stay for the wedding, but after that he’s going back to England.

Sam says Cas’ ex-boyfriend Balthazar has been trying to get back together with him for months. He’s got a ring this time, too. Dean feels like shit.

“You brought most of this on yourself, you know that right, boy?” Bobby asks him one day.

“Says the town drunk.”

“The ex-town drunk,” says Bobby. “Seven years sober now.”

Mary had insisted on that when she and Bobby had started dating. She’d been worried Bobby’s drinking would influence Sam and Dean into similar behaviors. She was half right.

“How did you stop?” Dean asks. “How did you start getting it right?”

“I wanted to be better. For her, at first. Then for myself,” says Bobby. “Cas is a good kid. You seemed happier with him.”

“Yeah,” says Dean. “I was.”

“And both of you are real good with cars,” says Bobby. “Good at fixing things.”

“We didn’t have a thing to fix,” says Dean.

“And bad at talking, the both of you,” says Bobby. “But you can get better Dean. There’s no rule saying you can’t.”

**********

“I’m sorry.”

Sam looks it too. He’s standing at the threshold of Dean’s room. He doesn’t walk in, but that’s not really a surprise. There’s a still made up air mattress taking up most of the floor space. Cas wasn’t even sleeping there, but Dean still refuses to pack it away. It would feel like admitting defeat.

“Yeah,” says Dean. He swallows hard. “Me too.”

“No I mean,” says Sam, the words rushing out of him. “I should have called. Mom kept telling me how hard a time you were having, but I was pissed and I didn’t want to believe it. I just… Everything seems to roll off your back. I figured you’d just call one day and we’d pretend nothing had happened. You always break first, when we fight.”

“When we were kids,” says Dean. “You’re a grown up, now. You should act like it sometimes.”

“So should you.”

Which is true. A smartass comment from his smartass little brother, but still true.

“You know I’m Bobby’s favorite, right?”

“You know I’m Mom’s favorite?” Sam shoots back. They grin at each other. A little bit of Dean’s heartache eases.

“I missed you,” Dean says. And before Sam can say anything sappy. “So tell me about this girl you tricked into liking you.”

Sam rolls his eyes to the nth degree, and Dean feels something like normal.

He goes to sleep that night though and realizes the Cas smell is fading from his sheets. He gets out of bed and takes out his phone to call Smash.

**********

The fact that Smash’s new girlfriend is Charlie is some kind of cosmic nonsense that makes Dean want to smoke a joint, listen to trippy music, and read Vonnegut.

The two of them only promise to help him find Cas’ motel room if he lets them watch the whole time (in case Dean has suddenly transformed into a creepy stalker instead of just an idiotic fuck up) and if he promises not to go back to Cas’ room again unless invited. Charlie has the data pulled up on her computer in minutes, and she uses it to call Cas’ phone. Dean tries to silently ask for it but she shakes her head.

After speaking with Cas for a few minutes she nods at Dean and hangs up the phone.

“He’ll talk to you,” she says. “He doesn’t guarantee you’ll like what he has to say.”

“I’ll take it.”

**********

Cas keeps the chain on the door when he opens it. Dean can only see part of his face, but it’s such a relief he doesn’t know what to say for a full thirty seconds. Cas waits for him, but not patiently. It’s such an opposite to the first time they met, that Dean wants to cry.

“I’m looking for a Castiel Novak,” says Dean. “Hope I’ve got the right address.”

“Do you want me to slam the door in your face too?” Cas asks. Dean doesn’t answer. The door closes. Dean doesn’t move. Soon, he hears the chain being unhooked and Cas opens the door again, wider this time. “Talk.”

“I fucked up,” says Dean. “I… I know I’ve got a bad habit of hurting people when things get bad for me. But I want to do better Cas. I want everything to be better. I want us to be better.”

“What if I don’t want that?”

“Then you don’t,” says Dean. “But Jesus Cas, tell me you don’t mean that. Because I think I might love you, and I think you might love me back.”

“Did you fuck him?” Cas asks. “That man, did you-“

“Yes,” says Dean. And because he hates himself. “But hey, at least I wasn’t entertaining a fucking marriage proposal on the side-“

“I was not-“ Cas shouts. He looks around and realizes the two of them are starting to draw attention. “I could have left here months ago, if I had wanted that. The majority of my friends live and work near Oxford. I stayed because I wanted- I wanted to be with you.”

“And that’s what I want too,” pleads Dean. He sees Cas’ hands clench at his side and he knows already that he’s won.

“You don’t get to decide after the fact,” says Cas. “You don’t get to- You don’t get to smile at me like that. Like I’ve already taken you back. I haven’t.”

“Cas,” Dean says. He reaches out to touch Cas’ face and his heart jumps when Cas clutches at his hand, not to push him away but to hold him. Dean leans closer, resting his forehead against Cas’ neck. “Please say something?”

“I fucking hate you,” says Cas. He kisses Dean like he loves him though, and that’s all that matters.

**********

Smash’s real name is Alice. Charlie tells this to Dean before seeing the death glare on her girlfriend’s face.

“Alice, huh?” Dean says. “Wait til I tell the other guys. It’ll ruin your whole vibe.”

“Alice is a pretty name!” Charlie says, frowning at Dean in disapproval. She turns to Alice only to see she’s even grumpier at hearing this. “And very kickass too. Totally a kickass name.”

Cas looks up at Smash from where he’d been trying to scrape of glitter from his arms. Charlie’s fault, of course. Cas’ only affectation for the parade they were coming back from had been a plastic rainbow bracelet. Dean had told Charlie his gay accessory was Cas.

Dean had gotten glitter all over his face after this comment because some people (read Smash, Charlie, and Cas) don’t know how to take a joke. Cas says he looks good that way though. Like he has extra freckles, but shiny. Then again, Cas is a liar who thinks Dean is cutest when he looks like a fucking mess.

Jesse drives them all back and drops Cas, Dean, Smash, and Charlie off at the house. Mary and Bobby are still on their honeymoon, which has been nice. But Dean knows they’re coming back at some point and he and Cas have already kicked around the idea of moving in together somewhere else. Dean’s gotten a raise since Bobby promoted him, and he’s pretty sure he’ll have enough saved up soon for a down payment somewhere not to shitty. Cas insists on paying half though, so it might take a little longer than Dean would like to do the saving up.

They play board games all night, until Cas is dozing off on Dean’s shoulder, and Charlie and Dean keep failing to get a decisive victory in the game of poker they decided to start.

It occurs to Dean he’s happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying a new style here. It's supposed to be simple, but raw. Let me know if it works.
> 
> Title taken from Affection by Cigarettes After Sex. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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